


A Veiled She-Wolf is Still a Wolf

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Series: Unfinished Business [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aegon is the real deal in this fic, Childbirth, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Inspired by Isabella of France, Jon is Lord Protector/Regent, Multi, Rickon is King in the North, Tyrion is Hand of the King, though in reality he's more Hand of the Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12142989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: Sansa is trapped in an unhappy marriage to Aegon Targaryen. Never failing to do her duty as Queen of the Five Kingdoms, she only finds relief in her friends Myrcella Waters and Tyrion Lannister and most of all in her children, Nymeria, Rhaenys/Cat and Aegon/Ned.But when a familiar face makes an appearance in the viper's nest of King's Landing, Sansa has to fight for her place. She finds a new and unexpected ally in the Princess of Dorne.Then the Vale joins the North and the Riverlands in their secession from the Iron Throne. Aegon decides to send Sansa North to negotiate with the Lords of the Vale and King Rickon's regent Jon Snow.New alliances are forged and Sansa is forced to make a choice.She's a Stark and a Tully.Winter is coming. That's more than a warning, it's a threat.Family, Duty, Honour. But family always comes first.





	A Veiled She-Wolf is Still a Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I started reading about Isabella of France and then this happened. I just can't help myself.

_Sansa had sworn she'd never allow herself to be forced into another marriage through the machinations of others again. Yet in the end she chose to protect her family. Aegon had taken the Iron Throne and they all knew that he'd turn his attention North as soon as he'd won allegiances in the South._

_Sansa made a choice to protect her little brother Rickon, who'd become King of the North and the Trident at the tender age of five, still as wild a wolf pup as ever two years later. She did it to protect  Arya, wherever she was. She did it to protect their home and their people, everything Father and Mother and Robb and Bran had given their lives for._

_She did it to protect Jon, who had found her in the Vale and saved her from Littlefinger and Harry; Jon, who had saved them all and had lost the woman he loved in the War for the Dawn; Jon, who would always be an ever-present threat to Aegon's reign._

_So against her better judgement and promises she'd made herself when she was riding out of the Vale through the Bloody Gate, Ghost by her side, Sansa travelled South once again to marry Aegon Targaryen in the Great Sept of Baelor._

 

Life was not a song. Sansa had learned that lesson a long time ago. The irony of all her dreams of marrying a King and bearing him little princes and princesses coming true hadn't escaped her, but it brought her little joy.

She never expected Aegon to be like a hero from one of her songs or even for him to love her. It still hurt that she only saw him when duty called for them to make public appearances together or when he came to her chambers for a perfunctory coupling twice a week.

In truth, she hardly knew her husband. He was more than handsome enough and she believed he truly wished to be a good king, but his self-righteousness and his disregard of her as a person only deepened the chasm between them.

Being Queen meant more than being this man's wife however. She had also agreed to marry the realm, which meant she had a duty to fulfill. She was determined to make the people love her, even if her husband never would.

Fortunately, Tyrion Lannister had agreed to act as Aegon's Hand after Daenerys and Drogon had disappeared beyond the Wall. Not only did her former husband quickly become her closest friend at court, he also coaxed her present one into applying Sansa's many talents for the governance of the realm by granting her a seat on the Small Council and letting her take care of certain political matters.

Sansa would readily admit that she found great satisfaction in her tasks as Queen, but her deepest joy came from the only of Cersei's teachings that had proven to be completely right: that a mother would always love her children, even if she'd come to despise the man who'd fathered them.

Nymeria was born only a year after their wedding, with thick, dark auburn hair and the black eyes of the Martells. Sansa suggested the name to Aegon, telling him she'd chosen it because of his Dornish heritage, but in truth she'd been thinking of Arya.

Rhaenys came into the world only little over a year later, her name chosen by Aegon to honour his sister who'd been killed so young. She had large Tully blue eyes and delicate strawberry blonde curls and when they were alone, Sansa whispered "Little Cat" in her daughter's ear.

With her pregnancies however, came Aegon's infidelity. At first he settled for maids and high-priced whores, but he quickly moved on to Sansa's ladies. There was pity in Tyrion's eyes when she forced him to tell her the truth about the rumour that Myranda Royce was one of them. 

Sansa considered herself a vain and petty thing when she bawled her eyes out after being informed that Desmera Redwyne was Aegon's latest conquest. The girl was considerably prettier than her brothers, but her hair was a common orange rather than the auburn of Sansa's own curls. She had blue eyes as well, but her rather coarse features were covered in freckles from hairline to jaw. 

The only people who ever saw her tears were Tyrion Lannister and Myrcella Waters. Outside of her chambers, she'd never allow herself to betray being even slightly affected by her husband's dalliances.

She may never have Aegon's love, but even if he couldn't muster any respect for her as his wife, he acknowledged her achievements as Queen. She had the love of the people and she was the most accomplished player in the game of thrones that always held the Red Keep in its grasp. Aegon's mistresses would never have that kind of power. 

After Rhaenys, it took another three years before Sansa gave birth again. The maester had told her she'd have a son this time and Sansa found that there was still a vestige of hope left in her.  _If I give him a son, he might come to love me._

***

During her short marriage to Harry Hardying, Anya Waynwood had told her a mother forgets the pain of bringing a child into the world and perhaps that was true. Sansa was not prepared when her labour pains hit her and she couldn't remember it hurting so much with the girls.

The pains came slow, but no less intense, and after half a day there'd been little progress. Sansa lost track of time as she lay in her bed, giving in to her weariness for a couple of moments at a time. She had to fight the heaviness of her eyelids, even when she was hit by another wave of agony.

She vaguely noticed the midwives and maids removing her soaked shift and a cool hand brushing her sticky curls away from where they were plastered to her neck and temple. The hand returned to wipe her face with a damp cloth.

At one point her belly tightened so hard she thought it would surely burst. There was a pop and Sansa sighed in relief. She felt water rushing down from her core. Later she'd remember being lifted from the bed again, but she couldn't recall being laid down again.

Hours passed, or perhaps only moments or possibly even days and the pain never stopped, so Sansa let it take her. She'd never been stabbed, but she was certain hot knives were being thrust into her lower back.

She blinked to force her eyes open and saw the maester and the two oldest midwives exchanging hurriedly whispered words in the corner of the room, throwing furtive glances in her direction.

Her heart started hammering inside her chest. "What's wrong?" she tried to cry out, but her throat was too dry. She tried to lift a hand, licking her lips. Someone helped her up and gently put a cup of water to her lips. She drank clumsily, the liquid running down her chin and throat.

"What's wrong?" she managed to choke out this time, her voice hoarse and high-pitched at the same time. 

"No need to panic, Your Grace, you're almost there."

A shriek escaped from her mouth. "It burns," she sobbed, "it burns, please make it stop!"

She felt the shift in the room. The tension didn't disappear, but it suddenly became more focused. 

She blinked again and saw the grey-haired midwife with the hawk nose peering up at her from between her legs. "It's time to push."

Sansa knew she wouldn't be able to do it, but they kept telling her to push, so she did it anyway. She cried tears of relief when the loud evidence of her son's strong lungs finally filled the room. 

Collecting every last ounce of strength left in her, she obeyed when the midwives told her to push again, for the afterbirth. 

The last thing she heard was a gasp of "There's too much blood," before everything went black.

***

In the distance a sweet high voice was singing a vaguely familiar tune. Sansa struggled to focus and the sound came closer. She realized she could open her eyes again and found Myrcella sitting by her bed, a small bundle in her arms.

"Lady Myrcella," she croaked, her tongue and throat parched. She tried to lift her arms, but she was too weak. Myrcella looked at her, tears in her bright green eyes.

Panic flooded Sansa's exhausted body. "My son? Is he... ?" She couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

"No need to worry, Your Grace," Myrcella smiled. "He is right here and he is perfectly fine." She shifted so Sansa had a better view of the bundle in her arms.

Huge violet eyes peered out at her from a chubby face with shiny lips and a perfect little nose. The small tuft of hair peeking out from under his swaddling clothes was a silver-gold so bright it appeared almost white. 

"The King has declared him a true Targaryen, the blood of Old Valyria and worthy of the name Aegon," Myrcella announced, arching a brow.

"No," Sansa shook her head. "I'll call him Eddard."

He might look like a Targaryen, but he didn't have his father's indigo eyes. Little Ned's eyes more closely resembled the colour she'd only seen once before, in his great-aunt Daenerys.  _They've tried to turn me into a lion, into a rose, a mockingbird, a falcon and a dragon, but I'm still a wolf. You have the heart of a wolf and I'll make sure that never changes._

"Are you sure he's alright?" she asked in a small voice.

"The maester was certain," Myrcella answered.

"Please, let me hold him?"

Myrcella put Ned down in his cradle to help her up and picked him up again to place him in her arms. An unimaginable warmth spread through her chest as she marveled at the beauty of the little miracle in her arms, but when she looked up she noticed the wet streaks on her friend's cheeks.

"You've been crying, Cella!"

She blinked and her face pulled into a frown. "We almost lost you, Your Grace," she whispered. "For a time we feared you'd never wake up again."

Sansa shook her head.  _No._ She couldn't do that, she couldn't leave her children alone. 

"So the King has come to see us?"

"Only your son, and just the once."

Sansa released a long sigh, not meeting Myrcella's eyes, instead focusing on Ned's perfect little face. Why was she still doing this to herself, expecting him to at least care enough to come see her on what they must have supposed was her deathbed?

"The King has been busy," she added in a clipped voice, before Sansa could ask.

She closed her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat.  _So he was busy fucking another woman while I almost died giving birth to his son?_ she thought bitterly. "Who is it this time?" she asked, studying Ned's eyelashes, feigning disinterest.

"It's been days," she began, but then hesitated, before taking a deep breath. "Margaery Tyrell has returned to King's Landing."

Sansa didn't need any further explanation.  _And she still has ambitions to become Queen._ One would think she would have learned by now.

 

 

 


End file.
